


Control

by l_cloudy



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hux subs like he does everything else, Light Sadism, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sub Hux, he looks at kylo and decides he’s gotta jump on that dick, so he does, that's it that's the story, unapologetically and with far too much intensity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux knows perfectly well what he wants. A familiar pressure, a firm hold, the thrill of the struggle. Kylo Ren’s gloved hand around his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written anything worthwhile in like three weeks and I’m really meh about this, but it wanted to get out so here you have it. Also, random shotout to [saltandlimes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/), who doesn’t know it but totally inspired this during one of our less insane tumblr chat sessions.

Kylo Ren is might made flesh, a coiled storm waiting to be unleashed. Hux sees it in the way he holds himself, the tension running through his body. He sees it in the way Ren fights, how he puts all of himself in those swings and lunges, that burning blade an extension of his own flawed power. He sees in the way the air crackles, sometimes, whenever Ren walks into a room, and it makes Hux’s own hairs stand up on the back of his neck, a shiver running through his spine.

Hux sees all of this and he wants him, all this otherworldly power and the danger that comes with it. He wants Ren to break him, to prove to himself that he is strong enough. He wants Ren’s gloved hand around his neck, a hard body pinning him to the wall. Mostly, he just wants Ren.

As a child, Hux had been a spoiled little thing. Then, and now. Hux always gets what he wants.

At first, he begins by finding himself in the gymnasium during all of Ren’s practice sessions, sitting in the observation benches every time his duties will allow. The first time ends up being somewhat dramatic – Ren freezing as Hux walks in after forcing the locked door open through his override code, the way Ren stares at Hux with coal-black, bottomless eyes, sizing him up. Then nothing; Ren turns away, strands of hair falling to obscure the curve of his cheek, but even weeks later Hux could have sworn he saw him smile. Even weeks later, he still dreams of that smile at night.

He comes by every time after, to watch how Ren spins and twists and turns, practicing with a staff or with that monstrous weapon of his, or at times with his own bare hands. He watches Ren fight imaginary enemies and he thinks of how that lean body would feel stretched up above his own, those strong thighs wrapped around his hips. He watches Ren and, sometimes, Ren watches him back.

But even the sight of Ren training doesn’t compare to his displays of fury, that burning rage that blazes red-hot like a sun and then it’s gone, leaving destruction in its wake. Hux berates Ren for it even as he feels himself swaying on his feet, face flushed and mouth dry. It could pass out as anger, certainly, and some part of him is truly displeased at the way Ren keeps wrecking both his ship and his plans, but mostly he finds himself even more intrigued. Ren is indomitable, and he must have him.

To all appearances, Hux plays his role very well. In the wake of Ren’s outbursts he always stands up straighter as he speaks, forces himself to loom over Ren even as all he wants is to cower in front of him, to fall down to his knees and breathe in the marvellous power that could break him in two in a moment. He thinks often about how that would feel; once or twice, he fancies he can hear Ren’s breath catch under his mask.

At night in his bedroom, when he takes himself in hand, he thinks of all the things Ren could do to him. All the things he’d let him do. Hux has heard of how Lord Vader used to choke those who failed him, drain their life slowly by the drop with a mere thought and a twist of his fingertips – and he wonders.

One day Ren returns from one of his occasional missions, and the sight of him in close quarters hits Hux in full force. His long robes are even more tattered than usual and burnt at the edges, and one of his gloves is covered in blood.

Ren tilts his head, turns to look at him.

“Your mind,” he says. “It’s very loud.”

Hux has to snot at how solemn and silly that sounds, even as he feels a twinge of want in his gut. Today is the day, he can tell; the day it all comes to an end, to a new start. But he despises Kylo Ren all the same.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, affecting a vapid, courteous voice. “I hope I’m not distracting you.”

It’s Ren’s turn to make an undignified noise, something that sounds almost like a laugh from under his helmet. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says, and Hux has to stop himself from averting his eyes, face twitching. He hates how easily his skin flushes.

“You’re thinking about my hand,” Ren says, in a tone that makes it clear he knows perfectly well how many times Hux has thought of each of his hands and in which circumstances, and all the lewd images that come with it. “What about it?”

If Ren is asking, it means he’d like the sounds of Hux’s thoughts recited aloud. “Did you reach inside someone’s chest,” he says. “And rip their heart out?”

“I have,” Ren says, and _oh_. He definitely sounds like he’s smiling, now. “Is that something you fantasize about often, General?”

He finds himself staring at that hand with renewed interest, the black leather and the darker liquid splattered on it. He needs to have it touching him; he needs _Ren_ to touch him.

“I do,” he hears himself say, as if from someplace far away. “Didn’t you know that already?”

A sudden rush of motion and then Ren’s coming at him, walking up with fluid strikes until he’s pressing against Hux’s body, crowding him against the wall.

“You–” he says, in the dull tones of the vocoder. He’s taller than Hux is, of course, and broader, and the cloth of his robes still smells like smoke. There’s something in the air between them, like electric sparks, and Hux closes his eyes, rocks back against the power he feels.

“ _You_ ,” Ren says again, and then he’s gone, and Hux almost crumbles on weak knees. He can hear the sound of Ren’s heavy steps as he paces up and down in front of him.

“Why would I want to waste my time with you?” Ren asks, and Hux opens his eyes, stares at the black mask and _grins_.

“Because I want you,” he says, like it’s all that matters. Just like he’d wanted his own room as a bratty Academy cadet, that fast new speeder that had caught his eye for his sixteenth birthday, the command of the flagship of the fleet. He got all of that, and more.

And, besides, he think that may appeal to Ren – being wanted. “Don’t you want me, too?” he asks, and what he thinks, what Ren can hear is: _don’t you want to take my body and my mind, to push me to my hands and knees and hold me down until I’m beat, don’t you want to break me?_

“I’ll let you,” he tells Ren, soft like a promise. “I’ll let you, I’ll –”

“Will you,” Ren says, and the tone of his words makes Hux wish he could see his face. Ren takes the mask off, then, and Hux finds himself gasping quietly at how _hungry_ he looks. Like he could devour him.

“Anything,” he says. Ren walks up to him, fists his hand in Hux’s hair. The other one, the bloodied one, comes to rest lightly above his uniform collar. It feels sticky, and slightly wet. “Anything.”

That night, Ren follows him back to his quarters; and when he leaves, hours later, Hux drags his spent body to the ‘fresher and then back into bed, and he doesn’t dream. He’s got everything he could possibly want – for the moment, at least.

Ren is not gentle, not that he’d ever expected he would be. Truth be told Ren is fucking brutal, with his rough touches and croaking voice as he finds all of Hux’s weak spots and goes for the hit, dispensing one humiliation after the other. Ren likes to use him, which Hux had been expecting, and likes to make him work for it, which he never would have imagined, not from a creature this loutish and uncouth, but apparently even Ren could find a measure of patience if it suited his interests.

Hux had come into their arrangement assuming Ren would take every chance to bend him over the nearest available surface and fuck him in a frenzy, a most satisfying outcome for all parties involved. He gets his wish, occasionally; but mostly, Ren likes to take his time. He likes to make him beg, which is horrible and wonderful all at once, and more than anything he delights in having Hux ride him, arms clasped behind his back by invisible restraints, so maddeningly slow until he’s sobbing. Ren, he learn, likes to see tears running through Hux’s cheeks almost as much as he likes to see his face splattered with come. It’s all very depraved, just the way Hux had wanted. He’s never had anyone like Ren before.

Ren tugs at Hux’s hair with gleeful roughness and trails bite marks all across his chests. He tells Hux how well he’s doing, which is ridiculous because Hux _knows_ that, knows he’s good at what he’s doing, but Ren’s words feel uncomfortably pleasant all the same. Ren sucks bruises around his neck and leaves his mouth bleeding when he kisses him, and Hux hates him and needs him more every day.

Hux crawls across the floor to come nuzzle at Ren’s crotch and he takes those leather-clad fingers in his mouth and whimpers, _Yes, Sir_ , and _Thank you, Sir_. He’s always liked the taste of that word in his mouth, knowing perfectly well that he’s saying it because he chose to, that he could turn the tables in a second if he so wished. With Ren, he can’t.

He remembers being thirteen and entering the junior Academy, to all appearances the most dutiful cadet in his class with his sharp, sharp uniform and perfect salute. His instructors all adored him, although they couldn’t have dreamed of doing otherwise – a few of them had been dinner guests of Hux’s father at some point, the ones up high enough or well-connected enough to be invited. _Yes, Sir_ , Hux used to say then, to men and women who all knew one day he’d rise higher than them all. Even then, they’d all known that one whispers from his lips would enough to change their lives, for better or worse. Hux had grown up an only child, the future of the Empire. A little tyrant, truly, then and always.

The last man Hux had deferred to before Kylo Ren had been General Arias of the _Relentless,_ although that particular relationship had been a strictly professional one. He’d been biding his time until the completion of the _Finalizer_ and his own promotion, even then playing a game though one not nearly as entertaining; a game of waiting, a game of pretence. All his life had been a string of commands to follow – mostly from superior officers he’d condescended to, despising them all the while. Some of them he’d taken as lovers. One in particular, a bright up-and-coming young Captain Hux had met straight out of the Academy, had let the power go to his head. He’d once made a joke, idle and carelessly cruel, asked what would everyone had said, had they known just how eagerly the Commandant’s son scrambled to follow his orders, how prettily he begged for a cock in his mouth.

That had been fifteen year or so ago; the man never made it any higher than Captain in his career. As for Hux, the further he climbed the more he found himself longing for someone to conquer him behind closed doors, to wrestle away the control and take him apart until he’s remade anew.

For this, Ren is perfect. Unlike everyone else before him he can truly subdue Hux however he wishes; there’s no way to keep him in check. He could lay waste to all of him, wreck him once and for all, give Hux everything he could ever ask for and more. It’s dangerous and inebriating, to have a true force of nature in his bed. In his mind.

The weeks go on. They become impossibly entangled in each other.

Lately, Ren has taken to ordering Hux to his rooms every morning before he goes on duty. There, he requests Hux dress him for the day, put on him all his layers and his robes and enough leather to furnish a whole room. Ren makes him fasten up his tunic and lace up his boots and clip that horrendous lightsaber to his belt and then sends him on his way, and he has to break in an undignified run to the nearest lift lest he’s late to his own staff meeting.

The ritual is frustrating and time confusing and makes Ren far too smug, but Hux thinks – he’s getting better at it, he thinks. That is good. Ren’s endless buttons are a nightmare to face this early in the cycle, but the feeling of having accomplished something worthwhile before the day has even started almost makes it worth it. Almost makes up for the tediousness of the task and Ren’s stupid, stupid smile – and the way he’d put a hand on Hux’s shoulder and tug him closer, hot breath ghosting over his cheek as Ren whispers patronizing nonsense into his ear. Ren seems to like the way his skin flushes, seeks to make it happen every day.

When he takes his own clothes off, Hux can’t help but notice the multitude of marks scattered all over his pale skin. It had felt good at first, a beautiful sight – old bruises discolouring day after day, going from angry red to a faded brown and disappearing into nothing. It made him feel strong, made him relish the abilities of his too-slight body. It had been exactly what he’d always wanted from this kind of arrangement.

But those are Ren’s fingertips pressed into his biceps, he finds himself thinking one day. That’s the shape of Ren’s teeth scratched over his collarbones, the purple circle where Ren’s mouth had sucked his claim over Hux’s chest, and lately he’s found he doesn’t want these traces of Ren to disappear.

This should be troubling, he knows. He should stop, call this off, but he doesn’t dare. After Ren, everyone else will pale in comparison. He’ll never get to have this again, tendrils of invisible power wrapped all around him, large hands fitting just perfectly around his waist, and the feel of Ren _everywhere_ – above him and inside him and all around him.

This is dangerous, far more dangerous than Hux could possibly have imagined at first, but he’s too far gone to give it up. Ren is his now, and he supposes he is Ren’s as well. But there are worse things to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Now has a kind of loose sequel/companion story featuring yet more arrogant, bratty sub!Hux and Kylo's POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7694413).
> 
> Talk space boyfriends to me on tumblr @[jonstarks](http://jonstarks.tumblr.com/).


End file.
